


Necessary Luxuries

by serenissima (killalla)



Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killalla/pseuds/serenissima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A life may be measured in bowls of tea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessary Luxuries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Teaotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaotter/gifts).



> (Contains spoilers for Ancillary Justice and Ancillary Sword.)

_Justice of Torren_

The decade room was crowded as usual. The two Lieutenants had to crowd up in one corner of the table for even a semblance of privacy. But then, there were few secrets one could keep on a ship of this size.

“Oh, don’t be an idiot, Seivarden.” Naskaaia huffed, exasperated. “I know she’s a beauty, but that one is a Geir. She’s simply seeking influence and before you know it, she'll have you trapped in some sort of clientage.” 

“I suppose you’re right. It would be a rather nice distraction from all this tedious paperwork, though. A bit of sport while sitting in dock waiting for those repairs. And with that sort of background, she’s sure to be - well, experienced. ” Seivarden trailed off before glancing around, impatient. “Toren Five!”

The ancillary looked up from where it had been cleaning dishes. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Tea.”

“Certainly, Lieutenant.” Obligingly, humming slightly under its breath, Eight Toren Five brought over a flask of and two bowls. Carefully, it set them out and poured, filling each exactly half way with fragrant liquid. Ordinary blend, as during these three weeks, officers could go onto station during leave if better was desired. “Will there be anything else?”

“That will be all. Dismissed.” Without further thought, Seivarden turned back to her companion, who shook her head and sighed.

“Well, you always did have a weakness for a pretty face, Seivarden, but your lack of subtlety is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

_Sword of Nathtas_

“Battlestations!” Seivarden sprang to her feet. Her elaborately enameled bowl and flask rattled for a precarious moment before crashing to the floor in a pool of spilled tea and broken ceramic.

The bridge shuddered, sickeningly, while on the screen an explosion bloomed silently in a shower of light and sparks. The hull was breached. Reports from all over the ship began pouring in. The Garseddai electors were somehow armed, they had killed over a dozen ancillaries, and were advancing towards the engine room.

One Nathtas Eight and Fifteen were suddenly beside her, Ship’s voice in her head “Captain Seivarden, we must evacuate. One Amaat and Three Etrepa are moving to intercept, but I believe our invaders will be able to reach the heat shield within the next five minutes. Ancillaries will assist all officers and crew to escape pods. Please follow them now.”

Everything slowed then, and later in memory and dream, the next minutes would be like scenes from an old entertainment: colors bright, sounds muffled, moments slipping past in quick succession. Her denial and resistance, Ship’s insistence, the ancillaries rushing down smoky corridors to bundle her into an escape pod, as Ship's voice calmly narrated the advance of their Garseddai, even providing a recording of the anomalous, impossible armor and weapons – visible only to the eye, but not to any sensor or device.

And a final thought, before the darkness took her – A Captain goes down with her ship. Sword of Nathtas is lost, and so am I.

_Omaugh Palace_

Each morning, Seivarden tries to wake before Breq, so as to have breakfast waiting for her. It has been decades since the scion of House Vendaai has had to prepare her own meals, and never before had she been servant to anyone. But that was in a past so distant it might be another country, complete with natives in strange dress, speaking a language she could no longer quite understand.

At least here it was easy enough to order fruit and pastries sent up to the room, no packets and sachets to bother with. And making tea has become a calming ritual, a rare moment of stability in this hostile, foreign future.

And then there was Breq Ghaiad. Seivarden was still uncertain of her motives. The Gerentate had found her, rescued her and dragged her back to the Radch, but for what purpose? Still, as she’d said on Nilt, Breq was safe - familiar in a way that no one else was. It makes no sense that this stranger should be her one fixed point in a changed age, but Seivarden was never one to overthink such matters.

She’s immediately aware of movement from the bed. Upon waking, Breq’s face comes alive at once, as if a switch had been thrown, and registers confusion for only a moment before recognition kicks in.

“Your tea.” Seivarden moves quickly to bring the tray over. “I ordered some breakfast, as well.”

Ungloved, Breq’s hand reaches out to take the bowl. “Thank you, Seivarden.”

_Mercy of Kalr_

In relatively short order, life onboard resumed its familiar routine. Administrator Celar and Governor Giarod were contacted, and repairs were commenced, both the minor ones on Ship and the more significant ones on Athoek Station. Fleet Captain finally agreed to let Lieutenant Tisarwat accompany Horticulturist Basnaaiad back to the Undergarden. And Lieutenant Seivarden was surprised and pleased to be invited to the Captain's quarters for tea.

“I wasn’t sure if I would be welcome here for a while.” Nervous, Seivarden turned the bowl in her hands before putting it down.

Fleet Captain was much recovered, but one arm was still in a sling, with her bad leg rested on a cushion. “Well, I wanted to ask you about overseeing a prize crew on Sword of Atagaris, while we continue to detain Captain Hetnys."

Instinctively, Seivarden started to cross her arms, before consciously stopping herself. “With respect Sir, I’d recommend Lieutenant Ekalu for that duty. While you are recovering, my place is here, with you.”

“And yet, you have far greater command experience.”

Seivarden snorted. “I am a better Lieutenant than I ever was a Captain. And in retrospect, I doubt I was even a particularly good Lieutenant.” A rueful smile. 

Breq sighed. “Very well. I should have known when you refused this job that I’d never get you to budge from my side." Then a pause, as she seemed to gather herself. "Look, there’s something else. Until a few months ago, my only goal was the death of the tyrant. And yet, I now realize that despite everything, I’d always been hoping that to find a way back. That it might conceivably be possible to undo what was done to me. But Anaaander Mianaai's little stunt with Tisarwat, and recent conversations with Mercy of Kalr have reminded me - I can’t ever go back to being what I was. That is something that is forever lost to me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, Breq.” There was nothing else that could be said.

“But I’m certainly not alone in experiencing great loss. You’ve suffered as well – as much as I have, in a sense perhaps more. And there certainly aren’t many alive today, whose memories reach back so far." And then that rarest of gifts, her genuine, unguarded smile. “Not long ago, you’d told me that the crew assumed you were kneeling to me.”

The faintest spark of hope. “Yes. Breq, you have to know by now that I would - that you could ask anything from me. ”

“I know. And I will ask, I think, in time. " She reached for the flask. "But for now – another bowl of tea?”

“As you wish, Fleet Captain. Always, as you wish.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title derived from character comments in Ancillary Justice to the effect that tea is considered a luxury, an extra, and yet is clearly a key part of Radchaai culture. Story contains slight references to Arthur Conan Doyle's "His Last Bow," and William Goldman's "The Princess Bride."


End file.
